Puzzle
by fire90
Summary: House and Cameron (in an AU) meet up under other and hard circumstances. House is the same diagnostician but Cameron is a very different character here...Around them a lot of characters from the tv show, obviously under other roles. Warning: The story contains sexual scenes.
1. Chapter 1

_Hi everyone! New story from my 'Translated Italian stories'! This one is by •° .o°• and MaRtA H&Conly (thanks for giving me the thumb up to translate your story :) ). It's an AU story, and it's a bit explicit, so I hope you'll be with me in this journey anyway :) Hope you'll like it!_

* * *

**CHAPTER 1 - Good morning Princeton!**

_"...Sometimes I feel like I am sailing on a sunken dream..."_

_'Grace', Robbie Williams (I've been expecting you, 2000)_

_Toc toc toc toc toc toc toc_

"Just a moment, I'm coming!" he turned to yell at the door, returning immediately to his main goal. He smiled, approaching it with caution "Ok, Joshua, we have to find an agreement: you tell me where is your brother and give me back that cane, and I won't say anything to mommy".

The little kid looked at him amused, remaining well hidden in his corner between the living room door, a short distance for a getaway in the garden.

"So, Joshua?".

_Drinnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn_

He turned abruptly, for a moment, to the front door to yell again at a not calculated on a Sunday morning host "I said I'm coming! Shit!" he stopped immediately after, seeing the kid smirking with his hands in front of his mouth.

"I say to mommy!".

"Me too!" he turned to the other pair of hazel eyes just behind him "Jess! Now why you two don't go to play with your blocks? And Joshua, give me that right now. Tell me, why don't we play with canes?" he said to the twins with the same shirt just in a different color, waiting for an answer.

Jess rubbed his arm, reflecting.

"Because you may be hurt, so now give that cane to daddy, okay?".

_Drinnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn_

"I said that I'm coming!" he didn't have time to bring his attention back to the children that they had already fled, cane in hand, in the direction of the kitchen "Damn! Joshua! Jess! Mommy will be here in a moment and then you two will have to explain why you'll be in time-out!".

He closed his eyes and opened them again when he heard a crash followed by a mad rush towards the door of the garden...

_'Enough is enough, they're exaggerating now...'._

He quickly reached the kitchen, rubbing his had in despair at the sight of a number of dishes broken because of the cat on the counter, that in all probability it had been threatened by the two pests. He rolled up his sleeves and approached the front door, sighing, resigned when he saw the scene in front of him...

"And which J are you?".

Joshua stood motionless in front of the door (Jess must have been holed up somewhere in the area), with his eyes upwards towards the blue ones of his interlocutor, of which, each time, he was intimidated. He had more effect on them than their own father (it was because of him that Jess was holed up somewhere).

He stared at the kid, he did it with everyone, young and old, but watching someone a meter shorter than you is satisfying, especially to him "You know it's rude to stand still as a microcephalic when a question is asked?".

The kid's nose wrinkled angrily (it would have been even more If he had known what was a microcephalic), then he changed his expression, smiling in the direction of the lollipop-man talking "Can I have one?".

"And what will you give me in return?".

The kid thought about it, biting his lip, before handing him the cane. The man grinned amused.

"Thank you, impeccable timing, J. A cane for a cripple, you'll have a future in medicine" he grabbed the cane and pulled off a lollipop from his pocket. Joshua turned away quickly, but stopped immediately.

"Another?".

"Will you keep it for yourself or give it to your brother?".

He thought about it carefully, pondering what the best answer could be "I keep it for me!".

He pulled another lollipop from his pocket, pleased, and came into the house "Your children are idiots, Wilson" he passed him, hitting him on the shoulder and limping to the kitchen.

Wilson sighed slowly "House, come in, please" he walked through the archway of the living room, sighing in resignation.

House was sitting in his chair, tapping his cane "As If they didn't know that you should not take candy from strangers" he snorted as Wilson sat on the couch, since his seat had been occupied.

"House".

"And then what's this thing about that they go around with canes?" he said, throwing a piece of wood in the fireplace as Wilson rubbed his temples, breathing slowly, and House identified the signal as a silent request to be silent.

"What are you doing here? Have you noticed that it's Sunday?".

House grinned amused as If it was obvious why he was there "You said it the first time:_'Always at your disposal'_".

"Yes, but I was referring to office hours and the hours dedicated to our sessions, it seemed obvious to me" Wilson snorted impatiently, crossing his legs "Or at least to all my other patients...".

House began to gesticulate amused "Oh come on, even your wife knows that I'm your favorite. She's jealous, she even scratched my bike!"

* * *

"Eric, wake up!".

Eric Foreman turned on the bed, putting his head under the pillow, firmly convinced that the voice yelling to get up for a good five minutes belonged to one of his very strange dreams...

"Hey, will you get up n your own or do you want a hand?".

Eric narrowed his eyes, looking around. The first thing he saw was the face of his daughter from about five centimeters away from his face.

"Explain to me what the heck is wrong with you this morning?".

Eric decided it was time to wake up completely, and with an inhuman effort, he sat up on the bed, stretching and rubbing his eyes "Annie, are you crazy or something?".

Annie gave him a wide toothy smile "Absolutely not. Hurry up, we're already late".

Eric watched her daughter going happily to the kitchen.

_'What the hell...'._

He glanced at the clock and realized that it was nearly half past eight in the morning...On a Sunday. He stood up, clearly irritated, he hated being woken up early on Sunday, it was the only day he could rest. He came into the kitchen and saw her daughter busy preparing pancakes decidedly...burnt.

"Annie...But are you crazy or something?".

The girl increased the flame and then turned to his father "Am I wrong or I have already answered this same question about...40 seconds ago?".

Eric stood for a moment in silence "For what absurd reason you came to wake me up at 8:30 on a Sunday morning? !".

Annie looked at him with an innocent expression "Come on Eric, did you forget?".

Eric stood in the kitchen, scratching his belly.

"You have to take me to Cindy's. Today we all go together to the mall. I'll be back tonight...".

Eric thought for a few seconds about the information given him by his daughter "And am I wrong or in front of our house there's a ridiculous shiny metal box on which I spent all my savings in recent years?".

Annie snorted. She hated how his father held her car against her still then. "Yes, Eric, but my beautiful pink car is in the shop, you were there when it started to have problems...".

Eric shook his head, sitting, waiting for breakfast.

"And so this morning I need a ride. My God, you're making a tragedy for nothing! "Annie put a plate full of toasted pancakes with jam on the table.

Eric slipped the first bite in his mouth, trying not to show how much they were disgusting "Honey, I told you a thousand times, why don't you let me serve breakfast?"

Annie swallowed the result of her efforts as If she hadn't tasted anything so good "Is it possible that you always have to complain about everything? Instead of being happy to have a sixteen year old in the house so phenomenal..."

Eric chose to remain silent.

Annie, who had finished breakfast in a flash, stood up and walked over to her father, kissing him on the cheek. She looked at him gently for a second, before taking an authoritarian and arrogant tone "I'm going to take my bag, Eric, I want you ready in five minutes flat".

Eric sighed loudly then headed to the bathroom, regretting not being able to shave. In front of the mirror, with the sound of water gushing from the tap open and the voice of his daughter singing loudly in the next room, he was lost for a few seconds in his thoughts.

The more time passed the more he realized that he and Annie were pretty much opposites. Sometimes he found himself even with the doubt that she was his daughter for real...But then he always managed to calm down because everyone said that they looked alike.  
Annie was thin and short, with black hair which she had recently decided to mess with horrible blue and pink shades, two big, dark and very deep eyes...Her skin was much clearer than his and she was really beautiful, not just because he was the father, but he had noticed several times that boys looked at her, even men...

_'Fortunately, she doesn't look like her mother'._

Not because her mother was ugly, of course. Simply because he'd not have been able to make it If his daughter had been the portrait of Alice.

Alice, the beautiful French girl with whom he had lived for three years...Until, about sixteen years ago, Annie was born...And Alice, his Alice, the pale-skinned and green-eyed, had gone away.

He tightened his hand around the sink, around that still open wound, still burning...

"Are you ready or noooot? !".

Eric sighed deeply and, after responding to his daughter annoyed, he got ready as quickly as possible.

In the hall he glanced at Annie, who was in front of the mirror fixing her make up.

"Are you sure you want to go out looking like that?".

Annie turned around, being skeptical of his father's eyes fixed on her: she wore a flouncy electric blue miniskirt, black collant and her beloved pink converse (that was just the base color, lettering and stickers now had completely changed color), a low-cut pink tank top which showed the huge red rose that was tattooed on her shoulder in secret, less than a year before.

"Tell me, Eric, when you'll be tired of trying?".

Eric, with his usual frown printed on the face when they talked about her style, went down the stairs and finally reached Annie in the car.

"It's my style, and it's great, you'll see that sooner or later you will end up to like it".

Eric smiled sarcastically "Of course. You know by now that I begin to think that I'd like you dressed more like a normal person instead of a...".

Annie sighed, not really angry "Drug addict homeless. Yeah, I know. Eric, stop it, you're going to see me like this at least until the end of my school carreer".

He sighed, resigned, throwing a quick glance at her daughter's hair and then at the road again. Suddenly, he found himself thinking of Alice. He didn't know why, he didn't think about her a lot, at least not lately...

Alice was gone, and he didn't want to use a delicate term to say that she was dead, she was gone in the true sense of the word. She had run away.

At the very moment when he returned to think about her, her perfect body and her blue eyes, he felt the anger in his bones. The fact that she had wanted to leave him didn't create him any problem...The problem was why she had decided to do it when Annie was three months old.

It had been hard, really hard, taking care of an infant daughter on his own and moving on without Alice, without the only woman he ever loved...

He hadn't had a serious relationship since then.

He had slept with a few women, but they had been one-night stands, and lately he had done it less and less. He realized that sex without love made him feel even more dissatisfied...

None, however, had managed to make him forget Alice and, unfortunately, he feared that no one would ever be able.

He was tired, so tired of having to go to bed early in the evening, tired of having to work hard all day to earn the right amount of money for not being in the middle of the street, tired of spending every night alone in his big and cold bed.

Tired of his life.

But there was one thing, one thing, he was not tired of and was not sure he would ever be: Annie, the little girl with weird hair and rude ways.

He lowered the deafening volume of the radio before looking at her.

_'Thank you'._

"Eric, can you stop staring at me like an idiot? I already told you that you need a woman".

He looked at the road, unable to suppress a smile.

_TBC..._


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER 2**

Wilson rubbed his temples while waiting for an epiphany on how to get rid of House, forty minutes had passed trying to do so but he had to make it at least before the return of Lilian. He sighed, staring at him: frowning and right hand committed to bounce the cane on the floor. Wilson hated when he did it.

"Ok, go ahead, House, but be concise".

The diagnostician growled angrily "They didn't ask Shakespeare to be concise".

"You're a doctor, not a poet, being concise is one of your skill".

House grimaced, focusing his gaze on the wall full of family photos...Too many to him: wedding, baptism of the twins, the twins on their first day of kindergarten, the twins wearing the uniform of the football team, the arrival of the little girl, the baptism of the little girl...

_'God...I'm feeling sick...'._

"Tell me something, how long since you and your wife have had sex?".

He smiled, he was reaching the limit. He took a deep breath with his hands rubbing his temples, looked back at him again with a lollipop (or what was left of it) in his mouth. Wilson got up from the couch followed by the astonished gaze of his 'patient'.

"Ok House, I'd say we're done, you don't want to collaborate with me as usual. Quite frankly, I wonder why you keep coming to me".

"Oh, come on! Sit down like a good boy".

"House seriously, why do you keep coming?".

House relaxed and shrugged, grinning "My boss forces me to come to you. You know how the story goes: I'm a doctor unreliable from the human point of view...There was something bad on my emotional stability too but I can't remember what was".

Wilson sat down slowly without stopping to sigh "Ok House, but this is the last time you come to my house outside my office's hours".

House folded his hands, blinking rapidly, mouthing a '_Thank you_'. The psychologist tried to smirk, relaxing against the back of the couch and pulling out his notes.

"Is that really necessary?". Wilson glared at him and removed the cap of his pen. "I'll take that as a yes...".

"Ok, why don't we start from where we left last time, will you?".

"Shouldn't we talk about my work?".

"Ok, do you want to talk about your work instead of your marriage?".

House was dumbfounded, with his mouth open. Wilson smiled, putting down his pen.

"Or we can talk about football or baseball, what do you prefer? I can't help you If you are the one who doesn't want to be helped".

A familiar click made the landlord turning his head around, smiling lovingly "Hey!".

"Dada!".

Wilson smiled at the little girl in the arms of his wife, skinny, blond hair held up in a bun, her hazel eyes like those of his children. She smiled as she slowly lowered the baby on the ground, but the smile disappeared when she saw the guest sitting in the chair. She glared at him with her hands on the hips, turning to her husband "Why is he here?".

"I know, I'm too gorgeous to kill, but Wilson is here and the coverage of the _patient_ is still holding on. Let's not ruin everything...At least until after his birthday".

Lilian sighed in exasperation, trying to ignore him and waiting for a reply.

"House was about to get going...".

House thought about it and then nodded, grinning like an idiot. She relaxed, abandoning the '_interrogation_' pose (which apparently didn't work), and she walked away towards the kitchen with a hideous noise of heels on the floor "Good, because we are at lunch to my parents'".

"Sure..." he felt him by his side, resting a hand on his shoulder heavily.

"If you want, I can teach you how to lie a little better. You know, for a possible future history of adultery".

Wilson turned to him, smiling irritatedly "Thank you House, but I have no intention of betraying my wife".

House shook his head, snorting, bringing his attention to little Katie who was tormenting the arm of her rag doll "What do you think If you and I and the little parasite rent a Cadillac and go get married in Las Vegas?".

"House! ?".

"What? ! I don't think she grasped the concept".

Wilson sighed, running a hand over his forehead "Thursday at four, House, ok? Come on, please, I still have a wedding to maintain".

"Gne! Gne! Gne!" he retrieved his leather jacket from the chair and went to the front door.

"Thursday, House. Don't forget!".

"I will not fail: 'tis twenty years till then!".

Wilson folded his arms across his chest, twisting his mouth, leaning against the railing of the stairs "Excellent use of Shakespeare, House".

House answered with a middle finger raised as he got out. Wilson smiled, closing the door and taking the hand of Katie.

"Let's go to mommy, Katie" and they headed for the kitchen.

"James, why those dishes are on the floor?".

He turned to the little girl who was using the doll to clean the floor "Ok Katie, why don't we go playing outside in the garden, would you?".

* * *

James Wilson, sitting on his beloved couch, closed his eyes, rubbing his temples wearily.

House was really a strange man, perhaps one of the strangest he had ever had to take care...And he had had to deal with a lot of crazy patients, so he knew what he was talking about.

While he was thinking about how to prevent the diagnostician to come to his house again, in particular on Sunday, he watched Lilian coming down the stairs, slightly breathless. He wondered for the umpteenth time how he had found someone like her...

She was fantastic.

She was a few years younger than him, they had met on the subway. She was tall and slender, and at that time she wore a simple white dress with short sleeves able to highlight curves that many women at her age no longer possessed. Her hair was of a delicate honey-blonde, not too long and straight, always in order. Eyes big and blue, like those of the twins, they were definitely the thing he liked most...

Lilian smiled, shortly after Jimmy felt her usual cinnamon scent and realized that she had to be behind him.

She began to massage his back and he felt her sharp breath near his ear.

"Hey...".

Jimmy, keeping his eyes closed, his hand away from his temples, assumed an expression much more relaxed.

"I put Katie in bed, I think she won't have trouble falling asleep. This morning with her mother was hard for her".

Jimmy smiled "Sorry, Lily, I'm so sorry for what happened this morning. I hadn't invited him...House is really...".

"A rude bastard, I know. No problem but...please Jimmy, next time, at the cost of calling the police, can you prevent him from entering?".

Jimmy couldn't help but smile at the thought of House knocking with his cane against the door of his house..."Yes, Lily, don't worry".

Lilian removed her hands from his shoulders and rounded him, only to sit in his lap. Jimmy greeted her with pleasure, putting his hands on her hips.

Looking at her fresh face, he realized how lucky he was to love the woman with whom he had been married for eight years as If it was the first day...or even more.

Lilian laid her head on his shoulder and began to play with the buttons of his shirt.

Jimmy chuckled, his nose between her clean hair "Lily...We have to go...".

Lilian shook his head, amused "No, I told my mother that we would have been there in the late afternoon, the lunch was just an excuse to get rid of that crazy man...".

Jimmy was pleased of his wife "Perfect...".

After a knowing look, Jimmy put her gently on the couch. Lilian started to laugh, while he, on top of her, kissed her ear, sliding his hands on her belly and tickling her.

"Jimmy...stop...".

He kissed from her ear to her lips, touching them gently, leaving them for a few seconds and then immediately returning to them.

"Stop..." this time her voice was fainter, less secure, probably because of the hands who had begun to creep under her sweater.

"I love you, Lily".

Lilian's lips curled upward. She circled his neck with her arms and kissed him, ruffling his hair "So do I...".

Jimmy began to fiddle with the fastening of her bra.

"But remember that there are...".

At that moment they heard the mighty noise of something that was shattered, then the noise of running feet, childish laughter, and finally the slamming of doors.

"Children...".

Lilian reluctantly pulled away from his mouth, putting her hands against his chest, allowing them to get up. She adjusted her dress and then passed a hand through her hair.

Jimmy, sitting on the couch, with dissatisfaction printed on his face, wondered If it had been a great idea not to use condoms then.

"You really have to go?".

Lilian turned to the green couch, smiling sweetly "Do you want to let them destroy the house?" she leaned toward him, kissing him on the lips, then moved away, heading upstairs. Perfect as always "Be right back...".

Jimmy, still not quite resigned, turned on the TV, looking for some nice channel to watch while waiting. But when he began to watch a new program about cooking, he heard his wife yelling.

"Jimmyyy!".

Turning off the TV, snorting, he went upstairs. The scene that stood before him would have been funny If that hadn't been his family.

"I have to potty".

He felt the hand of little Katie pulling the cuff of his shirt, and he realized that it would not be appropriate to ignore her pleading eyes for much longer.

"Just a minute Katie, I'll take you right away and then we can go to bed, ok?".

Katie made a grimace of disappointment "No, can't. J and J are bad".

Actually, Jimmy could clearly hear the screams and the noise coming from the bedroom of the twins. He shot a questioning glance at his wife, who was holding the broom and the dustpan, fixing the disaster made by their children.

"I have them locked, they couldn't stay still for a moment. I'll clean everything and then take care of them. You stay with Katie".

Jimmy nodded and, taking the little girl by the hand, walked to the bathroom. Once inside, he undressed Katie and picked her up to put her on the potty-chair, then he took a look in the mirror. His shirt was unbuttoned, he was slightly red from the effort and his hair was completely messed up.

He heard the voice of Lilian screaming for silence and he smiled. He couldn't imagine a better life.

* * *

He threw his jacket on the back of the piano before turning on the lights. He looked around, tapping his cane on the ground.

He was bored...Well, not in that instant, but he knew himself and he knew that he'd be bored shortly after. He sighed resignedly passing the couch, where he laid down an instant later, cursing his tennis ball and whoever had thrown it there.

He turned on the TV, zapping so quickly that it was highly unlikely that he could watch what was on air. He stopped only on '_Shrek_' and on a documentary of Bob Marley, too boring for him, even for a Sunday evening. He retrieved the tennis ball, throwing it over his head, staring blankly into space. Objectively, he didn't have a damn thing to do.

When he was gone from Wilson's, he had stopped to get a sandwich and a beer, adding two more beers, he had idled for about four hours in the park, and managed to win twenty dollars against a pensioner in a game of chess (you must enjoy each small victory, even the meanest against an octogenarian with eyeglasses like Mr. Magoo's).

And now, after all this, after the game of chess, the use of those twenty dollars in another sandwich and a CD of the Kiss (you must appreciate the stupidity of the people too, only $ 7.99), he didn't really know what to do.

He scratched his beard for a couple of minutes before picking up the phone from the coffee table and a small phone book from a drawer. He leafed through a few pages before finding what he sought, he dialed and waited.

"'Evening" greeted from the other side of the receiver "Yeah, tell her House is on the phone".The phone passed to another person. "Ok, same time, same place...Could you avoid to send me a blonde this time? I'd be eternally grateful...Oh no, I have nothing against blondes, you know" he grinned amused, he loved those fake pleasantries in conversations that didn't require them "You know you're the only blonde I'd ever get into my bed, but I hate news. Send me Cassie again". The 'f_uck you_' echoed in the living room "It's to avoid that that I'm calling you! Send her at eight".

He threw the cordless on the chair in front of him, he only had to wait another half an hour, then he'd know how to pass time, at least for that evening.

_TBC..._


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER 3**

_"It's always a silly thing to give advice, but to give good advice is absolutely fatal" _

_- Oscar Wilde_

House turned down the volume of his white Ipod, closing his eyes.

There was nothing better than an evening spent sitting on the couch in his living room, listening to the Rolling Stones, waiting for... a prostitute.

Cassie had her way, she was an expert, she was silent and together they gave each other what they wanted: to him a healthy fuck that allowed him to depart from the problems, and to her money for a new pair of boots.

And that was why he had decided to call her.

He glanced at the clock and saw that Cassie was taking much longer than usual.

At that moment he heard the doorbell ring.

_'That's weird, she knows that I leave it open for her...'._

The doorbell rang again, and so he decided to yell "It's open!".

Less than five seconds later he heard the door open, he remained silent, waiting, not sure why but he was expecting something different. And, indeed, he recognized immediately that the two legs that had just entered were not those of his '_friend_'.

Sitting in his chair next to the piano, with the iPod off and the the earphones still on and a grin on his face, he studied the unexpected visitor.

She was a young girl, he couldn't define the exact age, not very tall, with a body...a great body. She had heavy make-up on, wearing a very short skirt, tights and classic cleavage-heeled...Probably the only thing that distinguished her from normal women was the shirt far too veiled for society of today.

Despite preferring Cassie, he had to admit that she was not bad at all. After all, he chose classy women.

But the grin on his face immediately disappeared, he wasn't very happy.

He hated changes.

He followed a methodical way of life made of the same old piano, the same old apartment, same old hospital, and the same '_old_' prostitute.

This girl didn't promise anything good.

"Hi".

He stared at her. She had a beautiful voice.

He stood up, grabbing the cane.

She looked at him, quiet, with a false hint of malice, she hadn't even glanced at the cane, it seemed as though she hadn't noticed it.

"Why Cassie is not here?".

"She had an inconvenience of the last minute..." she stared deliberately at his lips "What, you don't like me?".

House didn't answer. He stared at her thoughtfully "What's your name?".

She smiled "Evy. But you can call me whatever you want".

House smiled in answer "Ok, let's clear some things up, Evy".

The womand didn't move. House approached her even more.

"Don't ask me my name, and don't even think to use any kind of nickname for me. Don't mention my scar, I repeat no comment, you can't look at it, touch it, caress it, let alone lick it. Just pretend it doesn't exist. Don't whisper in my ear and don't mention anything sensual during foreplay trying to make it more exciting, to me has the opposite effect. All clear or do I have to re-explain something?".

Evy nodded in silence.

"Cassie managed to not break the rules, I hope the same from you...".

Evy was motionless.

House smiled "You're welcome, the bedroom is this way"

* * *

She felt something against her skin, something soft and undefined which gave off a pleasant scent of talcum...

She let out a strange rumbling nonsense, squeezing harder her eyes.

When "the thing" began to catch her nails into her pink sweater, Lisa Cuddy knew that unfortunately her afternoon nap was over. She tried to fall asleep again...in vain.

Now she could hear perfectly the shrill voice of the woman who was speaking on TV, the noise of traffic in the street and on top of that her washing machine.

When she finally added a familiar meow, Lisa gave up her nap. She narrowed her eyes slowly, finding _it_ above her face.

"Hey, little one..." she let her manicured hand to be lost among the sparse hair of the cat, back and forth.

She sat straighter on the bed, leaning back against the wall and, after having moved away the plaid, she put the cat on her belly, not stopping to caress her.

"Hey, Stacy, what's wrong, baby?"

The Siamese cat looked at her, then crouched into her, relaxing.

Lisa sighed resignedly, closing her eyes. She opened them after a few seconds, turning her head quickly towards the electronic alarm clock resting on the nightstand. It marked three forty-five in the afternoon; she sighed even more deeply than before.

She turned her eyes on the TV, increasing the volume practically non-existent. She realized that the program she liked so much was over, and that the same channel was broadcasting an uninspiring interview.

Not stopping to caress Stacy, who was resting peacefully, she tried to understand what were talking about the two ladies in the interview. She realized that one of the women had written a book, a best seller, she had never heard of the author or the title of the book (although she read often enough), but in that program they all seemed to be both very important.

"The idea...Well, it came out naturally, in an afternoon of boredom a lot of things can come out...".

Lisa, who was already thinking about what to wear for lunch the next day, was captured by that phrase. The septuagenarian had used the word boredom.

_'Well, yes, I definitely know what you're talking about'._

Boredom.

She recalled that as a young girl she had had always something to do, constantly complained about not having enough time to live, feeling in fact a deep joy for all those commitments...Even as a child, she had always dreamed of becoming a woman "_important_", one "_with the pants on_". She remembered the evenings in her room, under the covers to read adventure stories, and at the same time the romantic Isabel Allende.

Definitely, she would have been out of her mind If they had told her what the future'd have been.

Boredom had always been her worst nightmare, but it was a feeling which she had now learned to live with...More or less.

Every day, every single insignificant day, was a heap of time, and the thinking every morning to find a way to use it was really becoming unbearable.

Definitely, she hated her monotonous and meaningless life. She wondered If it was her fault, all her life: alone watching TV, cuddling a cat...

She wondered If she'd continue throughout her life as well, or If perhaps the situation'd be even worse.

Luckily she still had both parents who supported her fully from the economic point of view, which over time had begun to trouble her...

More than anything she desired a job, to find something to do during the long, boring hours of the day, something that would make her be independent and fill her with pride and satisfaction. She had never been able to figure out what exactly had made her a failure, If her marriage, not being able to complete her studies or just her.

The fact was that she felt completely useless, If she had passed away at that moment, on the bed in her room, the world wouldn't have changed one iota (and she'd have bet her house that If the same fate had befallen to Hillary Clinton no, it wouldn't have been the same thing).

It was too late, too late to become a politician, or a successful lawyer...She was too old to accomplish anything she had dreamed of in her youth.

Suddenly, she heard the shrill shriek of the phone.

Trying not to disturb Stacy (at least she was able to sleep soundly), she reached for the cordless placed on the bedside table.

"Hello?".

_"Hello, Lisa, it's Vivian. So, all set for tomorrow?"._

Lisa tried not to let her notice her voice thick with sleep "Absolutely. Did you have doubts?".

_"Of course not, my dear. However, I would like to discuss with you the last things about the organization, can we talk about it now or can I come to you later?"._

Lisa was silent for a few seconds. Sometimes she didn't mind to continue to pretend to be really busy "All right, I'll see you at seven. See you soon".

She hung up quickly, turning off the TV.

It was the organization of those hateful meetings with those hateful people, idlers who did nothing but brag about how much their suit cost, soaked in cologne brand, that kept her alive.

At least, they could make her feel part of something.

She tied her hair in an automatic gesture, enticing Stacy to get off the ground.

* * *

He settled in an almost sitting position in bed, leaning back with his head turned toward the ceiling. If he had been a smoker, that'd have been the perfect time for a cigarette.

_'Too bad not being a smoker...'._

He turned abruptly to the nightstand, the prostitute was there, getting dressed, the view of her as she pulled up the skirt was not bad. He grinned, opening the drawer, making her turn around scared.

"No, don't worry, I'm not the kind of customer who kills the prostitute after having sex. It'd be a waste" he pulled out something small and cylindrical, a bottle of medicine. He saw her carefully observe his gestures as he took the pills, slipped them in the palm of his hand and throw them down without a drop of water.

He grinned "Find me an American who doesn't take at least one medication and I'll give you another hundred dollars".

She didn't answer, a sort of smile on her lips.

"How come a nice girl like you does a job like that?".

She gave him her shoulders, fixing her skirt "It's that I'm a beautiful girl that allows me to do a job like that".

He grinned again, she had the answer ready "What's your name again?".

She seemed annoyed by the question, she raised her eyebrows as she put on her shoes "Evy".

"I mean, what's your name when you don't undress for money".

She turned quickly toward him, sighing "You're a pragmatic man, you know?".

"Another woman told me the same thing".

She smiled "A prostitute?".

"No, a woman".

She buttoned the blouse "Have a nice evening".

He looked puzzled, annoyed by that tiny tease, as If so far (for her) it hadn't been. The girl smiled, taking her purse.

House smirked, closing his eyes.

_TBC..._


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER 4**

She laughed again, maybe it was the tenth time in five minutes, she was almost dislocating her jaw but it was rude not to smile at the brilliant jokes of Vivian about the waiters of the country club, especially since Christine (who she hadn't expected there) laughed softly (as expected from the wife of a deputy). In practice, a chain reaction...

"How is your husband, Lisa? Busy with work as always?".

Dear, sweet, adorable Christine, who knew perfectly well that she has been divorced for six years, but more importantly that he was never busy with work. She smiled again, knowing her malice "To tell the truth, I have not the faintest idea, Chrissy. But as soon as he'll come to give me my alimony, I'll ask for you".

The other two women smiled softly to her '_joke_', even If it wasn't a joke. Vivian took a sip of her iced tea.

"I still don't understand what prompted you to leave him, Lisa".

_'Well, the fact that he slept around with...Oh god, such a thing and I'm out of the book club. I'm starting to talk like him...'._

Chrissy smiled, putting down her glass, she loved gossiping around like the good wife of a deputy she was "And then, he's such a good man".

Lisa's eyes widened, and she was about to choke with the lemon cake that Vivian had brought.

"We're talking about the same person, Chrissy? Because I can tell you many good things about my ex-husband, but not that he's a good man. For example, he's good in bed, a great musician, a fanatic of movies, a genius at work".

Vivian smiled at her as If she was talking about a cute pony "It must have been love at first sight, then".

"Yes, definitely I was in love with Greg at first sight...Maybe I should have taken a second look...".

They were both amazed not knowing what to say or where to look. Lisa had printed on her lips her best smile, taking the pitcher of iced tea "More tea? Where will be the next meeting of the book club?".

Both smiled more relaxed, a phrase of convenience and she had restored the balance.

_TBC..._


	5. Chapter 5 - Welcome to the Jungle

**CHAPTER 5 - Welcome to the jungle**

She slipped the key in the lock, she was about to turn it but clearly she heard the resonant voice of her roommate probably on the phone.

"Sammieeee!".

On the third call she noticed that someone was finally turning the handle.

A few seconds later she found herself in front of that weird woman who she knew so well with the phone to her ear and mouth curved into a smile.

When she entered (after receiving a sound pat on her butt), she smelt something great.

She threw the bag and the jacket on the couch, pulling off her uncomfortable shoes. She went into the bathroom, intending to take a quick shower, it was really too hot outside and she was in urgent need of refreshment.

When she finished, she wrapped herself in a soft white robe, her brown hair pretty wet. She approached Sammie in the kitchen. The latter had her back turned, facing the stove...From the phone resting on the kitchen table, she realized that she had finished speaking. She approached her, peeking at what she was cooking.

"I adore you, you know?".

Sammie smiled "I adore you more, honey, believe me. So, how was your afternoon?" she dipped a finger into the sauce and sucked it greedily "What have you been up to?".

"Well, nothing...Pretty boring day, to tell the truth".

Her friend nodded.

"And you, Sammie?".

"Fred just called me, do you remember him? The one tall and very rich...The five houndred bills are in the drawer, by the way".

Her face lit up "How many times have I told you today that I love you?".

"You know, it's never enough...".

She pressed a hasty kiss on her cheek before sitting in the little wooden table in the kitchen.

"It's ready".

Sammie sat down beside her, putting the fragrant result of her work at the center of the table. She served both quickly and they began to eat. Sammie turned on the TV, turning up the volume. Allison, since the program wasn't interesting at all, couldn't help but get lost in her thoughts.

Fortunately or unfortunately, it depended on the point of view, that Thursday she hadn't yet had any customer.

_'Not a problem, last week I went really well...'._

The old man, the bespectacled young man, that guy with the pink panties and the cripple...Inevitably, she lingered on him.

She couldn't remember exactly what was his name, something like Bouse or Nouse, but, she didn't know why, she remembered his features. Usually, it didn't ever happened. Every time she left the house of her clients, she tried to remove completely all the details, including their faces.

Yet, the face of that doctor was printed in her mind.

Perhaps for his eyes...Those eyes of that strange color, a mixture of ice and blue. And not only for their extraordinary beauty, but especially for what she saw inside. They were strange, she had no idea why, but she couldn't read them...And she was very good at that.

When she was with other men, she could understand, looking into their eyes, If they were having fun or not, and especially what they thought of her...

But with that doctor...Everything had been different.

She didn't know If it was him not letting her see anything at all, or If that impossibility depended on her.

"Allie, do you want another bit of salt? It seems insipid to me".

Allison looked up from her plate, looking at her friend. It was strange to be called that way, anyone did it anymore, everyone called her Evy, except for Sammie.

"No thank you, it's good".

They went back to sit in silence, each lost in their own thoughts.

And Allison, without reason, thought back to the doctor's eyes...and everything else.

* * *

She focused her gaze outside the window, with the jar of ice cream resting on the windowsill.

"Oh. My. God!".

She turned abruptly to Sammie, still standing in front of the TV with a spoon for the ice cream in hand, her mouth wide open. Allison went to her.

"What's wrong?".

"'_Sabrina_' is on air right now!".

"Are you crazy? ! For a moment I thought something serious had happened! Do you get so excited for a movie?".

Sammie smiled jumping on the couch, stealing the jar of ice cream.

"My dear, there are few things in life that send me into fibrillation, and an old movie with Audrey Hepburn and Humphrey Bogart is one of those. You have to appreciate these little delights, little girl".

Allison felt a shiver down her spine, she closed her eyes for a second before sitting down next to her friend, putting the spoon into the jar of ice cream "And what's this movie about?".

The punch on her shoulder was too strong, considering that her shoulder was big half the hand of Sammie. She massaged the sore spot, pouting.

"Where the heck do you live? !".

"I've been your roommate for three years, your question doesn't make any sense, you know?".

Sammie glared at her while Allison smirked.

"What? I was simply pointing out the paradox constituted by you asking your own roommate where does she live".

A second punch, softer than the first.

"You cannot never have seen '_Sabrina_', it's...It's romantic, funny, unreal, and that's what you need to not think about our work".

Allison smiled amused by this romantic side of her friend "Wow. I'm impressed Sammie, really, not only because you punched me, but because you love a corny movie".

Sammie smiled, approaching Allison to take her by the arm as If what she was about to say was an important and shameful secret "'_Sabrina_' is the daughter of the Larrabee family's servants. In the beginning, she's in love with David, the young second son; once she returns from Paris, she falls in love with his older brother, Linus, and eventually they find themselves on the ship that is bringing her back to Paris, embraced and happy".

"Oh...A story unlikely, in practice".

Sammie pushed her away and she smiled. She grabbed her by the arm again, forcing her to look at the TV "Oh God, this is the most beautiful scene. She observes from the tree David dancing with another girl" she laughed "You two have the same expression!".

Allison shivered, it was true, it was very unreal as the situation, especially since she didn't believe in coincidences and that was the second time that someone made that comparison.

* * *

_She hadn't understood immediately the thing about the scar, but she opted not to tell him, he didn't seem very willing to dialogue; but now that she was following him into his bedroom and saw him leaning heavily on his right side, she understood what was the problem._

_He turned on the light, she remained a few steps behind him, yet she had no clear plan of attack. He pulled his shirt over his head and she looked at the red t-shirt he wore beneath._

_'He's got style...'._

_She smiled, she liked the little oddities of life. She made that smile disappear quickly when she saw him turning to her, his gaze serious, his eyes went far beyond the simple observation, they were studying._

_She believed to see him grinning, just before he took a few bills from his pocket and threw them on the nightstand, putting the cane nearby._

_"You can avoid to kiss me goodnight when you leave, I won't pay you an extra for that"._

_This time she was sure she saw him grinning when he looked up at her._

_"Audrey Hepburn had your same expression, climbing up a tree to interpret Sabrina"._

_"Do you like games?"._

_"Only those with a joystick and a TV...Do not even think about it"._

_She approached him, neither too slowly nor quickly, but she managed not to get noticed. She took off the heels noting the lack of that equal height that gave comfort with him. She was used to being looked at, in every way, from the lascivious to the most inconvenient, so it bothered her that he wasn't doing it..._

_He sat down on the bed. She approached him, she had no time to complete the journey that he took her by the hips._

_He wasn't lying about the fact that he wouldn't have spoken._

_Without too much concern, he unbuttoned the lower buttons of her blouse, kissing her on her flat belly, itchy, and that moment, as always, she found it nauseating..._

_But it was weird, everyone tried to kiss her at the beginning, she was annoyed about it, usually she knew what scheme to follow to avoid it. But he was messing up everything._

_She closed her eyes when she found herself with her back against the mattress, with his tongue that ran through her abdomen while her hands moved from his neck to his hair tangled in a mess; he jerked away with his lips, she heard his short breath (it was a familiar sound when the room became dark)._

_He peered at her with lips parted, frowning, she understood perfectly well that he hadn't yet fully accustomed to her presence there. He quickly pulled his red t-shirt off; he had a beautiful body all in all, it was not an athletic young and handsome, but he had a toned body. She stretched out her hands on the waistband of his jeans, but he pushed them away in a nervous gesture, blocking them on the sides of her face._

_'Ok...Do everything on your own...'._

_He went with his tongue down her neck, between the hollow of her breasts to her navel; she expected him to go more down, she knew how it worked, but to her surprise he went up, quickly, to her neck. He paused for a moment, his stubble scratched her neck._

_He bit her._

_He bit her on the point where the shoulder meets the neck, not with anger or ravenous desire, just a kiss with the addition of his incisors._

_He took her by surprise, she liked it, a nervous moan escaped from her mouth..._

_He quickly covered her mouth with his thumb, snorting against her neck, no, about the no talking thing he wasn't joking at all._

_She was short of breath, in a short time, he moved away throwing himself against the back of the bed; Allison closed her eyes suddenly, there was something wrong and, sh!t, If he sent her away now...She could forget the three hundred dollars on the nightstand._

_The sharp sound of a drawer closing, she rised on her elbows too late to understand what was happening, she saw him recline his head back. She had to do something._

_She got up and reached him crawling on the bed, it got his attention, his eyes following her every movement; he smiled. Now she knew that he wanted her._

_She kissed his abs, going up with her tongue on an imaginary line that started from his navel to the neck. She kissed him and bit him from time to time. She moved away, this time to take off her skirt, then returned to his skin, going down with her hands on his belt._

_She had to remove her lips from him to finish undressing him, since he didn't seem to want to cooperate, to be honest, it didn't matter. She looked up to his eyes._

_They stared at each other._

_She swallowed hard, something strange, almost frightening behind his cerulean irises. She didn't know what._

_She looked away, she slipped off his pants and he approached her quickly, taking her face with one hand. It scared her, she instinctively moved away, he grinned and dragged her to him by her thighs._

_Back with his lips on her neck, grabbing her by the hips, and then his hands on her back, quickly to the hook of her bra, while his lips bit the front of the fabric._

_She moaned again, louder, and again his thumb on her lips._

_He pushed her against the mattress, she felt the swish of the fabric of his boxers, that familiar sound (perhaps too familiar) of crumpled plastic, and again the tongue that went up to her breasts._

_She flinched at that strange feeling against her left thigh._

_His right hand quickly touched her back, luring her to him, he lingered on the edge of her slip; Allison closed her eyes._

_'Please, don't tear it off, don't tear it off. They cost $9.99. Please, don't tear it off'._

_He slipped it off, gently, without being in a hurry and she sighed relieved before circling his neck with her arms. She felt his hands on her hips, firmly, before slipping in her quickly._

_She arched her back at the first thrust and his lips were stuck to her ear like a shadow, grinning..._

_"Come on, little girl..."._

_It annoyed her, the bastard, she crossed her legs behind his back and went to meet him before he could do it himself. She knew how to do her work..._

_And this time she cheered for the sigh that escaped him. She scratched his back with her nails and felt his muscles tense, but not how she was used to, they were tense almost to the point of spasm, nervous...If muscles can be._

_The thrusts were fast, almost arrogant on his part, and Allison wanted to do something to make him stop, relax, meet her..._

_He pushed him back against the back of the bed, smiling, knowing that he expected it from a professional; sensual movements of her fingers stroked his abs while slowly she began to make slow circles with her hips. She kissed him on his ear, biting and licking, increasing slightly her movements. His hands became stronger on her hips while her breasts touched barely his chest. She felt his stubble on her earlobe, snorting..._

_"Faster"._

_It wasn't a suggestion, she hardly received tips on her job, but as you know...The customer is always right._

_She tightened her legs around his waist, she tortured his neck because it was a safe territory, she had never found one who didn't like it. One of his hands ended up on her butt, the other holding her firmly, located at the base of her neck, between her shoulders._

_The thrusts sped up, his body didn't seem to relax, always short of breath and pressing against her neck, his hands always on her..._

_He pushed her against the mattress while observing her body, he was catching his breath, he pushed in her touching her breasts with his skin; his stubbly chin marked her between her breasts with invisible scratches. Back to the neck...He had to like it a lot._

_She had to make sure that he collapsed and quickly, If possible, because Allison knew that it was the easiest way to end that evening, going back home and relaxing with a nice hot shower, but he seemed like a tough guy...In many ways to tell the truth._

_She scratched his back again and he slipped a hand to lift her butt, pushing his pelvis against hers, making her moan, but this time she was faster. She took his hand, biting his thumb, and then kissed it, catching his attention, moving her tongue in ways that went well beyond the lewd and unseemly; and he had to like it a lot because she felt him shiver._

_The last thrusts were the strongest, most powerful, and he didn't remove his thumb from her lips. She observed him closing his eyes for a moment after closing any distance between them._

_He took her by the shoulders, made her arch her back after another thrust; he let her moan this time, listening carefully._

_He reached her ear, scraping her neck along the way._

_Allison closed her eyes, letting go, she couldn't help herself._

_So her hold on him became firmer, she threw her head back, abandoning any kind of defense, the last shred of control she had over the situation._

_He won._

_She was the first to surrender, and although inwardly she begged herself to be silent, she wasn't able to shut the cries of pleasure with the latest thrusts._

_If nothing else, it was too much for him too..._

_She still felt his hands on her shoulders, his face away from her for a couple of inches, she observed him. Just for a moment, his face seemed more relaxed, then he opened his eyes. Sighing, he grinned, apparently he did it often, or maybe that was his way to smile. He moved away slowly, too slowly, and collapsed on the bed, closing his eyes; she supported herself on her elbows, studying him better: only his head was resting against the back of the bed, on a pillow, the blanket covered him only in part, and all in all it wasn't a bad view._

_She sat down moving her hair behind her shoulders, it was hot; she frowned again._

_His right hand ran quickly on the right thigh, a strangled breath. Instinctively, she approached him._

_He opened his eyes suddenly, that brilliant blue. She moved to him. He grinned. His index finger on the lips, a sign for silence, his eyes half-closed. She tried again._

_He stopped her with his eyes; a nod to the nightstand..._

_She looked down, slowly slipping away from the sheets._

* * *

She sighed nervously, turning to the TV, captured by the dreamy look of Sammie along with the falsely naive one of Audrey Hepburn looking at the sky...

_- Sabrina: 'Oh, but Paris isn't for changing planes, it's... it's for changing your outlook, for... for throwing open the windows and letting in... letting in la vie en rose'._  
_- Linus: '[sadly] Paris is for lovers. Maybe that's why I stayed only thirty-five minutes'._

A shiver ran down her spine, too much real fiction, too fast.

But, after all, she liked Linus...

_TBC..._


	6. Chapter 6

_Thanks for the alerts and mps :) _

_About this chapter, there's a heated discussion between two characters about a delicate topic (you'll recognize it). Obviously, the authors and I don't want to offend anyone, it seemed only something that House could say seen his sharp nature and his dislike towards social communication._

**CHAPTER 6**

The psychologist looked up from the stack of papers placed in the center of his desk, then looked at the staid clock on the opposite wall. It was 5 minutes to 4 and Wilson, after a quick mental calculation, observed that there were still twenty minutes of rest before resuming work. His next patient was in the habit of always show up late.

Therefore, he couldn't help but be shocked when the clock read exactly 3 minutes to 4 and House made his entrance, cane in hand and a grin on his face.

"Good evening, Mr. Wilson" House said and played with his cane, rotating it in the air, and then sat on the chair located about two feet away from Wilson's desk.

"Hello, House. Why are you here...earlier?".

House smirked "You know that I couldn't wait to see you, Jimmy. Since when you threw me out of your house, my desire to meet you only increased...".

Wilson ignored his sarcastic comments, running his fingers on his silver letter opener "Very well, House, I'm glad that you're punctual. So, I think it's appropriate to resume our last discussion..." he pulled out a couple of sheets from a drawer, frowning while leafing through them "Here, yes...Your marriage...".

House's mouth twisted in an expression of disgust "Do we have to talk about it?".

Wilson sighed. "Obviously, House".

"Couldn't you make an exception?".

"No".

"I think I'd much rather watch those prefabricated scribbles of yours and talk to you about what my heart sees...".

Wilson stretched out his hands on the desk, tired "You tried to avoid every argument I've proposed. You didn't want to talk about your leg, or the Vicodin, or your childhood...And now even the wedding!".

House smiled slyly "But, dear Jimmy, try to understand me, I find them extremely boring topics. Why don't we talk about interesting things such as...Sex?".

Wilson let it go "House, I don't understand why you keep coming here If you have to be so stubborn...".

House dropped his cane on the floor "First, because my fat boss forces me, I think he's the only person in the world convinced that I suffer from mental disorders...I mean, come on, have you seen me? !".

Wilson stared at him, frowning.

"And second, because I love the jealousy of your wife. You're crazy about me, and she cannot do anything about it" he smiled dreamily like a happy child who had just made his worst enemy tripping.

"Ok, House, do you think that now we can begin to talk about serious things or do we want to be like this until tonight?".

House snorted, deeply annoyed.

"Good, the last time we were down to...The end of your marriage. I wish you told me what was the straw that broke the camel's back, what precisely has dissolved the bond that existed between you and your wife?".

"I haven't understood your question".

Wilson glared at him.

"What, at school it always worked!" he noticed that Wilson, like every Thursday afternoon, was beginning to lose his patience. He was able to conceal it everytime, being the good psychologist he was, but inside he really wanted to smash something on his head.

_'God, how much I enjoy it!'._

"I mean, House...What destroyed your relationship? The conversation, sex, lack of children...".

House looked disgusted "Dear Jimmy, about the conversation between the two of us I realized I had nothing to talk about except politics bills almost a week after marrying her; for the sex...Well, sex is a big word, the only time that Lisa and I had a simultaneous orgasm was when the judge handed us the divorce sentence; for the children..." he pointed at himself "Can you see my clear desire to be a father?".

Wilson stayed in silence, House had silenced him.

"I see, House ..." Wilson took a deep breath "When you started to betray her?".

House thought about it, starting to count with his hands "Five years after the wedding".

"It was only once, or...".

"I slept with another woman about once every three months, sometimes every four, or every two".

Wilson wrote something on his agenda. House tried to peer in vain.

"And you felt, well...satisfied?".

House couldn't suppress a mischievous look "You want to know if I liked it every time? Well, actually there was some pretty bad night, but overall I think I was pretty lucky".

"Good for you, but frankly I don't care. I meant, how did you feel after? Satisfied, happy, depressed, sorry...".

House shrugged "Satisfied, sure, you can say that again. But I bet she had some boyfriend too, so why would I feel guilty?".

Wilson didn't answer.

House noted that he was becoming more serious, in the room dropped a tense atmosphere.

_'Let them come, Mr. Wilson...'._

"After the accident...I mean, after that time...Have you ever wanted to try again?".

House didn't answer immediately, as usual. He seemed rather to think about it seriously for a few seconds before lowering his voice to some degree "It was everything already done before even taking her to the altar, Wilson. It wasn't a good thing giving birth to a child in those conditions...We both knew that sooner or later it would have ended, she continued to cling to a shred of dummy hope for a few years, but she knew it".

Wilson nodded seriously "But House, I really do not understand...It's been six years since the divorce and, as far as I know, you're still not able to recreate a stable relationship...Why?".

House pretended to be deeply offended "And what do you say about the prostitutes? In the end, it's like being in a wedding...Along with the microwave".

"House, you know that having sex with someone, and most importantly to pay for it, doesn't mean being in a stable relationship!".

House stood in silence, sighing bored.

"I think you should go out, go to some bar, and maybe meet someone...".

"Wilson, I think you've missed a tiny detail: I sleep with prostitutes, so I don't have to talk about politics, movies, Proust. Everyone is happy this way".

Wilson shook his head, annoyed "Do you really feel satisfied, House? You can really feel complete having sex with a woman who doesn't know you and that consider you nothing but work?".

House shook his head "No, no, my dear Jimmy, I'd say great sex. For example, last Sunday, a beautiful brunette, Evy, fabulous legs...".

"House...".

"If you want I'll give you her number, although I don't think that...".

"I don't need prostitutes, House, tries to understand it! There are men who need to be loved!".

House remained silent, so that Wilson thought he was really thinking about what he had just said.

"What do you think peluches are meant for? You should buy one, my Cupid, I think it will be necessary when you find out that Lily is fucking your plumber in your bed".

Wilson sighed deeply, shaking his head for the umpteenth time.

"What do you say, my little misunderstood sentimentalist, can we change the subject now?".

Wilson seemed to think about it for a few seconds, then he raised his arms in surrender, resigned "Ok, you win".

* * *

Carpet, wall, carpet, wall, carpet again, wall again.

The unnerving noise of the bouncing ball against the carpet and against the wall and then to its owner's hand, again and again, was going on for over half an hour. And the background music, the only nice thing, was almost non existent.

He sighed in resignation, putting the mop against the wall, the noise stopped...

_'God, thank you...'_

"What, you already done?".

He took the mop again and began to clean the floor of the hall, he didn't want a conversation. He didn't want him there.

"Why, it changes anything?".

"I have a cane, I'm a cripple, I could slip through the hallway to get to the elevators If the floor was wet".

_'Great vision...'._

He sighed, lowering his gaze back on the floor, the noise of the chair that turns and then that noise that made everyone disappear from the corridors: step-by-blow, step-by-blow, step-by-blow...

The sole of the snikers striding on the wet floor, he felt him snorting.

"Would you like it, eh?".

He didn't look up at him, he didn't want to give him satisfaction "What, doctor?".

"Oh come on, avoid this proselytizing just because you're the servant and I'm the doctor. If you didn't know that I'm a head of Department, you'd have already robbed me in the parking lot".

Eric smiled, standing up, he leant on the mop, staring at him. It was unbearable the way that man could piss him off...He'd prefer to spend an afternoon listening to Annie talking about whether is more _cool_ Orlando Blood or that other man who made that film with the dragon.

But it was Friday, the next day he'd be at home, he knew he wasn't inferior to him.

"Well, I think it would be a pleasure to approximately 70% of the hospital If you slipped".

"Do you want to tell me that you know how much is 70% of the workforce of the hospital?".

_'Son of a bitch...'._

He tightened his grip when he saw him taking his yo-yo from his pocket, grinning, waiting for his reply.

_ ...I fell down in the desert baby, I had nothing but a piece of paper, yeah! I had to write something down, And I found myself alone, and then I let go of everything, Into another dimension... _

He returned to his office, turning up the volume of the stereo, the song filling the room.

He took another deep breath. He convinced himself that he had nothing better to do than to stress him every Friday afternoon, maybe they were more alike than what he thought, maybe he wasn't a bastard, it was only a facade, he acted for the simple fact that no one had ever doubted that it was fake.

_'Ok...Let's see If we can communicate...'._

"What will you do this weekend, doctor?".

The doctor turned as If he hadn't heard, while fixing his backpack (putting inside everything you wouldn't expect from a doctor) "I'm not going to go to cultivate cotton or to sing clapping for the glory of the Lord, brother" and he returned to what he was doing, and Eric was astonished.

"This is racism".

"Oh God, you black people stick to the topic of racism like children stick to the skirts of their mothers when they have to get the vaccine" he came out of his office, turning off the lights, staring at him "That was not racism, you want to know how it would be a racist joke? More or less like this: in answer to your question, what do I do in my free weekend when I do not waste time in clinic to save the black ass of your brothers that steal money to the system that cares for them, it's not of your business, but in all probability I'm going to put on a white hood and to set fires in some Afro-American community, you'll recognize me by the cane".

He walked away like nothing had happened, and Eric was stunned, still with half a corridor to clean, he didn't know what to say. Now he was sure that they were not similar, but he still couldn't understand.

_'He spits venom for the simple fact that he's capable to or his reasoning is more complicated?'._

The '_tlin_' of the elevator was unmistakable, again the soles of his snickers.

"Ah right, just for the record, servant of Friday".

He observed him blocking the elevator with the cane.

"I want to remain the doctor who you greet with a nod, no interacting, I'm not good, I'm not my assistants. You can talk with them" and he disappeared (finally) when the doors closed.

Out of the hospital, he was in a hurry, he had no one to say goodbye, he had no pleasantries to be exchanged with the nurse at the reception. He stopped a couple of steps away from his bike.

Aesthetically speaking, it was a punch in the eye, it was orange, and there were better bikes in the market. But he felt like God (more than the other times) the first time he pulled over 140 km/h. So it seemed a good orange color to him. Now, however, there were fine fingers with black enamel caressing the hull, big dark eyes, and a white smile. He turned down the Ipod.

"You're too young to smile at me that way".

"It's yours?".

"You're too young to even talk to me like I was your friend".

The girl smiled, putting her hands in the pockets of her torn jeans "That's cool".

He went to her, grinning, climbing on top of his bike, ignoring her. He put down the cane, slipping on his helmet "I know, it's mine".

_TBC..._


	7. Chapter 7 - Men and Women: Questions?

**CHAPTER 7 - Men and women: questions?**

"Come on, do you seriously think that _this_ is better than Stephen King? !".

"Stephen King is brutal!"

Lisa sighs resignedly, the book club is good, sure, but only when you talk about recipes or at least the authors considered decent. In this context, Stephen King is '_brutal_'.

She smiles, settling in a chair "Why don't we chose a book of poetry next time?".

There is a moment of silence and everyone look at her puzzled, or better, they look behind her. She turns to the window overlooking the garden and the driveway entrance, closing her eyes soon after.

_'God...'._

The cane raises quickly in greeting, though his grin seems to say everything else.

"Isn't that your ex husband, Lisa?".

"As far as I'm trying to forget it, yes, he is" she gets up quickly to go to the door and put an end to anything he wants. Before she gets to the door, she sees the handle shaking and then him closing the door quietly, as If he was...at home. He smirks.

"Why the key isn't under the pot? You don't trust your gardener anymore?".

"No, it's my ex husband" she crosses her arms over her chest while he approaches here, glancing at the living room where her friends are staring at them. He stops, smiling at his ex wife "Nice group, what are you reading? Christmas decorations or how to exit from the tunnel of the patchwork?".

She looks at him annoyed, thinking that she had found his sarcasm so fascinating long, long time ago.

"What do I owe the honor of your visit, Greg?".

"Maybe this?" and he puts the check under her nose.

She hates _that_ too, to be honest. Not the money, but the fact that it is his and that she needs it.

"And how come you're giving it to me in person? I love the white envelopes of your lawyer".

He shruggs. She knows that attitude, she had got used to it, she now knows that when she meets him, she must prepare for an argument about their relationship, the ownership of the house, the gardener, the furniture. In short, in the end, after seeing him shrugging, she knows that she'll have to call Lewis, her lawyer. Because Greg, what had been _her_ Greg, is bored.

"Let's go to the kitchen" she walks quickly, she wants to be sure that the screams won't be heard from the living room.

She leans against the counter and then looks at him from head to toe. He isn't in the best shape, but it's true that she had seen him in the worst conditions. No, she must stop, she can't care about him.

"Greg, what do you want? Be concise, please" she sighs.

He rolls his eyes, tapping the cane "Come on, now I can't even come to say hello?".

"The last time you did it, you wanted the stereo back".

"Because, obviously, it's mine!".

_'Here we go...'._

This isn't what she wants, but even If _he_'d not have pulled out the story of the stereo, they'd had arrived at that point anyway, might as well that one of them begins.

"Ok, we've already done this game, Greg. I'm not going to repeat it, do you mind?".

He begins to wander around the kitchen and she can't help but follow him. He opens the cabinets, she closes them.

"Greg? !".

"My boss scolded me because I didn't go to _Idontknowwhich_ conference about _Idontknow_ what adorable disease regard to children, _Idontknow_ on what day".

"And this is my problem why?".

"He told me that he sent me an invitation a month ago".

Lisa smiles, not just to moke him, but because she had forgotten for real "Oh, yeah...They sent it here, I forgot".

"It happens..." he shrugs.

"Well, after six years you may also try to say to the hospital that you've changed your residence" she turns to retrieve his mail from a drawer.

"I think they have known it since we stopped to exchange love notes in the office. No wait...That wasn't with you".

She closes the drawer abruptly, turning and smiling. He stares at her.

"Give me back the vinyl discography of Jelly Roll Morton".

She laughs in his face, despite everything, she still likes to see him asking for it "Don't you even think about it".

"You don't even know what the jazz is! It's just out of spite!".

She leaves the envelopes on the counter, moving away from him "You're right, that's why I use them as coasters".

"Look, If you don't give them to me, I'll take back the cat!".

She turns again, that was new. Stacy. Stacy is six years old, she is a Siamese, she is hers, not Greg's. And she is only hers because Greg gave it to her as a present for their last anniversary or maybe it was because he was cheating (or both), she couldn't remember.

"Stacy hates you, she cannot stand you, such as ninety-nine per cent of females in the world".

"That one percent should be my mother?".

"No, I was thinking of your dentist".

"I don't go to that crazy dentist anymore!".

"Ok, sorry, one hundred percent of females".

She leaves the kitchen, she doesn't stand him for more than ten minutes, and only five had passed.

"What is it? Lack of sex?".

"Oh, here we are on your favorite topic".

"Lisa you're wrong, it's my favorite topic only with you because I know you hate it".

She smiles, approaching him "No, I hate it related to you".

He feigns hurt, frowning. Obviously, she is satisfied.

"Do you know why, Greg? The problem is that I wasn't enough for you. Your love for me was always expressed in a sexual way!".

"Would you prefer it in a hotel? You know, for old times' sake".

"You wish".

Greg grins, moving closer to her face, dangerously and fast as always.

"Come closer and I'll take back the piano".

He moves away, heading to the door.

She sighs relieved, it had been more painless than other times. But...

A meow not so reassuring at the front door.

She quickly reaches the entrance. Stacy is motionless in a corner, her back straight, Greg near the door, cane off the ground.

"Greg? !".

He whirls with his eyes wide open "She started! She attached to my leg. She looks like you, you know".

Lisa closes her eyes, rubbing her temples "I'd like to know what is your problem today!".

He rubs his beard. She wishes for a razor, a machete or a blowtorch.

"Mmm...I think the fact that my father never bought me a puppy, I've always wanted one...Mmm...Fire trucks, toy soldiers, Chemistry Set...See, that one was right, but I'm firmly convinced that it wasn't my father's idea though".

"Greg, out!".

"Ok..." he opens the door after blowing at the cat. He reconsiders it, looks at the living room, smiling at the ladies "A phrase to ponder, ladies: Wilde once said _'Bigamy is having one wife too many. Monogamy is the same'_. I think he was right".

The sound of the door closing is the most pleasant thing that Lisa Cuddy could have ever heard "Coffee?".

* * *

A smile is painted on her face as she begins to unbutton his shirt. She proceeds slowly, stroking his back with her left hand while gently removes each button from its slot with her right.

Being there, where he works, the risk of being seen by any person who randomly decides to open the door, only adds to the desire...

He starts to kiss her neck, savoring her skin with his hot lips, and she smiles while helping him to discard his shirt. He moves his hands, the same hands that she had loved since the first time he had touched her under her tight T-shirt, not stopping to kiss her.

Then he picks her up, laying her gently on the desk soon later.

She cannot hold back a laugh when he's on top of her.

"They could see us...".

He smiles, flicking his mouth from her neck to her cheek "I know".

She sensually caresses his abs with one hand, while using her arms to hug him, and with the other hand she loses herself in his soft hair. She feels him arrive near her breasts, he squeezes them while posing his mouth on her shoulder, kissing her slowly and regularly. She observes his blue and deep eyes, they are beautiful, If It weren't for that slight fear that they instil into you, they'd be perfect...

She keeps caressing him, going near his scar. While she's almost going to touch it, however, she stops. She doesn't know If it's ok to take that risk. She's not sure he could find it enjoyable...

He slips his hand under her skirt and then fiddles with the lace of her panties.

She kisses from his neck down to his chest and then to the abdomen, focusing particularly on his navel. It was now a tradition, she did it every time they were in bed...or in a public restroom, or in a cafè, or on his desk...She smiles as he pulls down her panties.

She sits down, not stopping to kiss him, as she begins to unbutton his pants, stroking him at the same time "Maybe we should stop...".

They both know that she's not serious. They exchange a sensual look...

"I think not".

He slips his hand between her thighs, smiling as he sees her lie down and close her eyes.

**TBC...**


End file.
